


slosh around loose

by ferrassie



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:45:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferrassie/pseuds/ferrassie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was cold, he could see his and Nick's breath in the air, and he felt too warm. Head spinning. And, obviously, that was going to be a problem. He wanted to faint. Or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	slosh around loose

Well, it is awkward. Uncomfortable. The way it usually isn't between them, normally (or anymore, anyways). Aaron's drinking tap water out of one of the last clean glasses in Nick's entire flat, legs folded up underneath himself on the sofa and trying not to reflect on circumstances bigger than what's not happening. It isn't like he hasn't been here before; he has. Little reasons, mostly: Nick (accidentally) picking up his mobile in the locker-room; helping Theo and Jack get him home without injury after a night out with the team (the spending-the-night part optional in inclusion); because they're friends. Or, not-so-much-just-friends as friends-who-kiss-one-another after Nick licked the back of Aaron's neck during some trivial conversation late, late after a match for a laugh, he guesses, and he ended up running into a parked car, he was so startled. Nick kissed him right there as the car's alarm blared, Aaron's eyes wide open. Logical thing to use as a precursor, maybe. But, it was still nice. Kissing Nick.

(That is the reason this whole situation exists, Aaron thinks. The _it was nice_ bit. Because that's exactly what he said to Nick, after he actually remembered to kiss back. Because he did want to. Nick laughed entirely too loudly when they broke apart – that mad laugh he has – and Aaron bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile or, oh god, blush. It was cold, he could see his and Nick's breath in the air, and he felt too warm. Head spinning. And, obviously, that was going to be a problem. He wanted to faint. Or something.)

But, right. Awkwardness. There's nothing to distract him from it, either. Well, _X Factor_ is on because Nick likes to watch it, but it's easy to ignore especially when Aaron can only focus on the way Nick's tapping his fingers on his thigh and looking both at the screen and somewhere across the room and he can't figure out exactly how he's doing it. Nick suggested this, whispered in amused English when he dropped Aaron off after coffee out, leaning across the stick-shift. Both of them taking up a lot of space. He thought about it the entire tram ride over and he's thinking about it now and it doesn't help that Nick looks like he's about to head out to the shops or fold his laundry. Something routine, at least. It's not fair at all. He takes another mouthful of water, throat dry.

There are a number of things that could be putting it ( _it_ ) on hold. Maybe Nick just got up and he hasn't showered yet or he hasn't made up his bed or he really likes the audition rounds of _X Factor_ or he's waiting for Aaron to finish his drink or it's too bright outside or he doesn't remember why Aaron's here or he's pulled something or he doesn't want to kiss him anymore. Aaron takes a deep breath and downs the last of his water. Just in case. He wipes his mouth, looking over at Nick. Catching him staring. He ducks his head. His fingers twine around themselves.

"Okay. I can't wait for you to do something anymore, Az," Nick says. "It's too odd. And slow." Oh, it's supposed to be at _his_ pace. Right. He knew that. Nick gets up from where he's been sitting and drops down beside him. Arm over the back of the sofa. Nick leans into him and Aaron can't look. Breathing in after-shave, cologne (he's definitely showered). "Come here." He lets Nick turn his head, fingers under his chin. They meet each other's mouths and that nervousness multiplies. Not going away. Because Aaron knows where this is going. Or, supposed to go. At some point.

(It's happened more than once before, really. It has. No matter what he makes it sound like. Like, when they shared a room on an away match and Aaron was half-asleep and flat on his stomach in his own bed. Alone. He woke up to the fact that he had curled himself around Nick, the juncture between Nick's shoulder and neck beneath his cheek. He would have fallen out of bed if it hadn't been for Nick's arm around his waist. Nick had rewarded him for managing not to. Well, whatever he had said, he said it in Danish. So, that's what Aaron likes to think it meant.

So, there was that time. There was also that other time when Nick picked him up from a party because Aaron was too embarrassed to ring anyone else after downing a few too many plastic cups of mixed something-or-other. He remembers stumbling out under Nick's arm and going absolutely red when he tripped on the steps and Nick pressed his lips to Aaron's, awful breath and all, when they were far enough away from the crowd and again after he had gotten Aaron successfully into his own bed. Didn't even wake up Chris.

But, no, it hadn't gone any farther. Nick's a gentleman. In ways.)

Nick's hand finds its way under Aaron's top and he shivers, jolting away from it. Nick nips at his bottom lip, a backwards sort of warning. A question, even. It's quick to get used to. Like. He lets himself be laid back against the sofa, Nick pushing up even more of his top. Aaron would like to think he doesn't scare easily. He moved to another country and has made a respectable amount of friends and can shop for himself and all that, but something inside of him twitches when Nick starts to undo his jeans. Touching the cotton pulled across his hips. He's eighteen. Everything is quite awkward at eighteen. Nick palming him through his boxers – pressure, pressure, pressure – would probably count as 'everything'. Laughing softly against his mouth. Aaron's thankful he's laying down.

"How's that?" Nick asks, "All right?" and Aaron is turning pink. It's something he's become attuned to, unfortunately. It feels like all the breath goes out of him when Nick's hand wraps around his cock. He pushes his face into Nick's shoulder. Muffles the (completely) embarrassing noises Aaron is making. Nick seems all right with them, though. Gripping Aaron tighter on every down-stroke. He tucks Aaron's hair behind his ear, watching him with a placid look, before he places a kiss to the spot between Aaron's eyes. Right, he forgot Nick was like that. Understanding and caring and the like. The feeling it leaves behind. He's dumb-struck.

(Which he always seems to be whenever Nick's in close proximity. Same person, same position. Different room, different bed from the last one they had ended up in. They hadn't even been rooming together, but Nick had texted him an approximation of _ps3, my room, rematch_ and Aaron had found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Nick in his and Robin's room, Robin nowhere to be found, minutes later. Distractions, inevitably, happened. Nick's controller was left, untouched, on the floor from when Aaron had knocked it out of his grasp. The hand on Aaron's wrist moved up to his back. Nick slowly inched him up against the pillows, knees on either side of Aaron's. His fingers had just found the skin underneath the waistband of his sweats and he was arching up into it and, well, that's exactly when Robin decided to come back.)

Aaron shakes his head. Deeper into the hard-soft curve of Nick's chest. Not that that really matters or anything when he's rocking his hips up to meet Nick's fist. "It's good," he says, moments and moments later. He digs his fingers tightly into the drop of Nick's shoulderblade. It's so strange to make noise, _talk_. He used to wrap his shirt or his bedsheet or whatever else around his knuckles and stop his mouth just to keep quiet. But he's trying to act like he never did any such thing because Nick likes it. Communication. Feedback. He cants up sharply. "Uh, Nick…" Losing his grip and his words. Brilliant. He was doing so well.

That's enough for Nick to stop. He looks down at Aaron with a bright, bright smile. Hand on his hip, now. "You're loosened up, then?" said like it was just Aaron, not Nick, who let them spend an hour-and-a-half watching a stupid reality programme. He doesn't have to answer, though, because Nick knows. Aaron's wound up, hard. Blushing, literally, everywhere. Nick pulls him to his feet, an arm wrapping around Aaron's back the instant he's standing, and picks him up. Aaron fumbles to hold on. Nick laughs and shifts Aaron against him and, fuck, that's not fair. It's not. Being carried off to Nick's bedroom like this. Grasping too tightly at his neck. Footballers and their stupid bodies.

Nick sets him down softly on the bed (and he always forgets to expect that. Yes, each and every time). He falls back onto the sheets; not knowing exactly what to do with his hands as Nick crawls over top of him. "Like this," Nick says, taking Aaron's hands in his and putting them on his waist. A real, live human being. This close to Aaron. It's not entirely brand new. So, he probably shouldn't act like it is. Too aware of the heat of Nick's skin. He stares past him, up at the ceiling. Plain white. Waiting. Nick taps his cheek, refocusing his attention, and it's probably a good thing – right now, especially – that Aaron's automatic response is to open up for him. Hand on his neck, under his jaw. It's fantastic when Aaron remembers to breathe.

"Can you," Aaron starts, pulling back. Closing his eyes. Nick waits. Of course. "Down there." He nudges Nick's forearm with his shoulder. He feels completely juvenile, but it does work. Nick's hand is on him again and he's keyed up and maybe it's all just nervous adrenaline, but Aaron thinks he might, he's going to, come. A just-encroaching-on-five-minutes handjob. Yeah, a bit embarrassing. It's slicker, pre-come spread down his cock. He can feel it flare through him. An _oh christ_ feeling. A, "Nick, wait, it's…" feeling.

Nick shakes his head. "No, come on." Boxers pushed off of his hips. Skin pressed to Nick's top, his jeans. Thumb gliding over the slit of Aaron's cock. He feels _that_ in his toes, through his socks. "Az," and, yeah, that's going to be it. He comes over Nick's knuckles, the back of his hand, still moving up and down his cock, mouth to Aaron's hair. Right there to hear all of the weird little gasps and half-moans that he definitely didn't make getting off alone. He hopes. But that's hard to think about when Nick's sitting back on his knees and licking his hand clean. Between the grooves of his knuckles. Over the freckles and the bends and the curves. This kind of stuff doesn't happen outside of videos, ever.

(But Nick never seems to be aware of little facts like that. Not when he's pushed Aaron up against a shower wall and folded down on his knees in front of him. Head hitting the tile hard; wanting to pass out when Nick took the tip of his cock into his mouth with no warning, nothing. He started fast and didn't stop. Fingernails cutting into the back of his thighs. Had just come off of some extra fitness and he was exhausted, could barely think straight – much less in circles. Cock sliding in and out of Nick's perfect suction, dragging against the roof of his mouth. Couldn't believe that he was thinking like that. Cold soap and water at his feet. Aaron grabbed Nick's hair and started fucking into his mouth – _unconsciously_ , okay? – before he could even warn Nick that he was coming. Swallowing around him. He pulled off and licked the corners of his lips. And smiled. Aaron slid down the wall, totally spent, and let Nick kiss him.)

"No more edge," Nick says, looking down at Aaron. He pulls off his shirt and pushes the heel of his palm into his cock, head tipped back. Aaron fumbles with his own, caught on his wrists. Nick watches, fondly might he add, and Aaron gets it over his head just so Nick can't tell that his blush is starting to spread. "Az," Nick laughs, "it's all right." And he's proud of himself for being able to undo Nick's jeans, hands (hardly) shaking as he tugs them down his thighs. Nick's fingertips are soft on the outside of his wrist.

And whereas Nick manages to smoothly take his jeans off, Aaron does not. Nick kisses the dip of his hipbone when he's finally undressed. Well, the both of them are. Just having Nick against him is enough to get him going again. Knees brushing Aaron's thighs. Arm past his shoulder. Hand by his head. The hard click of a cap. Aaron stiffens. Right. That. That's happening. Nick rests his forehead against Aaron's stomach and he almost wants to be sorry for breathing so erratically. Until he stops all at once, Nick's warm, lube-slicked fingers right there. He pushes his head back into the pillow, spreading his legs. Nick's hot breath on his skin. Aaron's shivering, for christ's sake. And then, then he feels Nick's fingers inside him. Slowly. Stretching. He curls his feet into the mattress.

(They've never done this before. Well, Aaron hasn't. Ever.)

He can't breathe and he's trying to relax and it's all a bit much to think about. Nick is solid against him, going frustratingly slow, the burn travelling all the way up his back. It's the weirdest thing, but his cock is half-hard, Nick's other hand twisting lightly around the base. Best, worst, best, worst. "You're great. Perfect." It's all of a sudden; Aaron can't feel anything else but a spark. Everywhere. Over and over. Lube and more fingers. Nick's insistent, fingers curling. He can feel the outline of Nick's smile. He's ready. Completely, completely ready. He reaches for Nick. Eyes looking up at him. "Yeah?"

Aaron nods. "Yeah, now. You can." He's breathless. Nick's over top of him, condom in hand. He puts his hands on Nick's shoulders, tapping the muscle stretched underneath. Nick squeezes the crease of his thigh softly. Lovingly? Oh. He takes a deep breath and lets it out as Nick pushes in; just the head of his cock. This is officially the strangest moment of Aaron's life. He'd swear on it. The hurt is returning, the not-comfortableness. Aaron bites his bottom lip and Nick kisses his mouth back open. Breathing together, really. It's reassuring, but Aaron's way too aware to close his eyes. Blurry pores of Nick's cheek. It feels like Nick is never going to stop, but it is better. Nick pulls back once he's all the way inside Aaron. And it's just sort of like that. He feels like they're too close, hips pressed up together.

Nick watches him carefully (like he's unfocused, maybe, Aaron can't quite tell), brushing the hair off of Aaron's forehead and asking, "Now?" Aaron nods and he feels it through, well, every part of him. Every inch of Nick's cock hot and too much. He's moving slowly – like he should, probably, Aaron muses – but it's driving him out of his skin. He flexes his toes under Nick's calves and Nick's never really been that thick. He speeds up his thrusts with ease, with measured pace and Aaron drops his hand down to his cock only to have Nick's fingers lace with his. He's panting and uncoordinated, but Nick doesn't seem to care. Which is good. Very good. He lets out a strangled moan, face turned into Nick's pillow. His bed underneath them. Him inside of Aaron. Fuck.

Can't focus. Colours everywhere across his vision. It shouldn't be that base, but it is. He bites at the hollow of Nick's throat. Paling pink skin. Nick's body is hot between his thighs. Sweat-sealed. He swallows thickly. The circle of their fingers is tight-loose around Aaron's cock and brushing against the on-off flex of Nick's stomach. It's not like anything else; the spreading pain of grass-burn or the sharpness of light after too much studying, eyes tripping over words. No, it's him and Nick. Hands on each other. Nick's fingers behind his knee. Ankle pushed into his side.

Their slick-wet hands bring Aaron off, arching up from the sheets. He feels wrecked, heavy. Nick spreads his legs farther apart and thrusts in quicker, faster. He tries his hardest to stay responsive, but he feels sleep collecting at the base of his spine and then Nick's stopping, body shaking against his. He looks down at Aaron through his eyelashes. Aaron sinks into the mattress, legs sprawled flat. Nick pulls out and strips the condom off. Registers him settling down beside him. Something warm and wet across his stomach. Sheets and a blanket pulled up over his chest and a kiss to his temple, his mouth. Doesn't feel different, yet.

(But it's wasn't something he noticed right away. Aaron can admit that. Overwhelmed by London and Arsenal and _new_. The idea of new. There was so much to take in that Aaron didn't pay attention to Nick's arm around his shoulder or the way he waited up for him or what it meant when Nick hid his after-training clothes or threw his trainers into the showers before wrestling him to the ground after some ridiculous argument. He was seventeen. And he's not that much older, now, either. But when he did figure it out – maybe, not at all – it was on Chris's sofa in their flat. It was simple, outright: "I think I fancy Nick." Chris looked up at him from where he was slumped against the floor, controller in hand, and shrugged; turning his attention back to his game. That was it.

Because it's not like communication is really top in Aaron's life. He knows he hurries his English, his Welsh and looks anywhere else but at who he's talking to. So, the conversation after he had Nick's mouth against his wasn't the greatest. It was mostly between him and their trainers and the trash-strewn sidewalk and the light of the lamppost, but it did start up _some_ cognitive process where he actually remembered all of those past brushes. Past contact. Either of those.

That was just the beginning, the first bit. There was the flinching when Nick touched him, complaining to Jack after an awful mixture of spirits and pints, and loads of he said, he said because football clubs are apparently full up with gossips, and Cesc's, "Young love," comment didn't make it any better. It actually made Aaron want to rough him up, but that's not a thing he's supposed to do to his captain – not without retribution, anyways. Like being taped to a bench or something. But, it happened: the warmth of Nick's arms through his coat on the street and the at-first gross slide of Nick's tongue. That. Real romance, right?)

"It was good, yeah?" Nick asks. A whisper between them. He sounds like he's about to fall asleep, too. Lazier in his pronunciation. Aaron doesn't care. He nods in response. Burrowing deeper into Nick's hold. He can't think like this and he's starting to wonder if he'll ever be able to, but right now he's not even dressed, Nick pressed to his back. He doesn't know what else is left to think about. Any reason to keep on not being asleep. With Nick right here. Aaron really needs to work on the range of his states. These extremes being so up and down. He smiles into their hands.


End file.
